


Glorious Purpose

by icebucky



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Loki is depressed, Loki was mind-controlled, Sad Loki, after the battle of New York, at least that's what i choose to believe, finding of self, reflective Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebucky/pseuds/icebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, Loki of Asgard contemplates how he became burdened with glorious purpose. Not that he remembers much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glorious Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Wrote this after consumed with shameless Loki feels. In my mind, and in the universe that I write Avengers fics, Loki was controlled by the Chitauri, and hence doesn't remember the battle too much. I'm planning on writing more for this universe, this oneshot may lead to a series or something, in which, of course, our sweet Loki would be the main character...as long as I actually finish something...anyway, please read, enjoy, leave comments and kudos! Thanks! <3

Once, there was a fight.

It was one that Loki would never be able to properly remember, one that was a blur of color and sound and pure anger pulsing through his heart.

It was one that left him reeling, one that told him, more than anything Odin ever could have revealed (or  _not_ revealed, for that matter), that he didn't belong. He wasn't worthy of the title that he had been given as a child, he was no Prince of Asgard, he was nothing but hate personified, given a body and left to roam the Nine Realms in unending agony.

It was a story that Loki saw through someone else's eyes, through a shade of crystal blue that shimmered like the scepter that had been placed in his hand only after he had been foolproofed. Once there was no possible way for him to escape their grasp.

But he knew, in his heart of hearts, he knew.

He was different. Always had been, always would be. There was no place for him in the halls of Asgard, no room for the Trickster under the shadow of the mighty God of Thunder. No place for someone as inferior and as effeminate as a man who chose to learn the delicate and precise art of magic rather than to swing a weapon in the hopes of crudely dismatling his enemies.

How could there be a place for him in a world where he was considered a monster.

The simple answer: there couldn't. Once his secret was out (and Loki had no doubt that it would be soon enough), everyone he once knew would see him as an outcast, an unwanted pawn. Every place he had once treasured would be a prison. He'd be revisiting those childhood days when those stronger than he would push him down and take his books, not caring that he was the son of Odin, not caring that he had an older brother who would beat them to a lightning fried crisp if they did.

But Loki of Asgard was no longer a son of Odin, he no longer had that protective, stupid oaf of an older brother to take care of him. He was alone.

The fight had forced him to see his adopted family in a much more suspicious light, had forced him into the rejection of everything he had once held dear. Loki, viewing the world through that crystal haze, had agreed. He didn't  _need_ his family, they weren't his family anyway, what was he saying? They never loved him, they weren't there for him. His  _family,_ if that was what they called themselves. He didn't want more lies. Not from them.  _He_ was the Liesmith, the Trickster, the Silvertongued God of Mischief. He was not from them, he was his own person. He was a king.

At least, that's what Loki continually wanted to tell himself. But the fact of it was that he craved the approval of Asgard in the same way that he knew humans craved subjugation. He was Loki, of Asgard, and he took this as a burden of his glorious purpose.

So he found his way to a dark part of the stars, a part that tortured and broke him and put him together again until he saw through a shade of blue that made him ache for green and told them that he was who they needed him to be. That he was Loki, of Asgard, and he was burdened with the pain of knowing the inevitable success of the plan which was his puppeteer.

And through he longed to break out, he was frozen.

Exactly in the way that someone who was born in the cold should never be.

He was Loki, of Asgard, and this, most unfortunately, was his glorious purpose.


End file.
